What Is Hiding In Those Weak and Drunken Hearts
by QuirkyChick
Summary: Full title: God Knows What Is Hiding In Those Weak and Drunken Hearts - Something terrible happened to Stiles. Some guys thought they could hurt him and get away with it. Derek and the Sherrif do not agree. Derek/Stiles. Oneshot. Sensitive themes; read the warnings inside.


Story inspired by a prompt on the Teen Wolf Kink Meme on LJ (because this thing is _eating my brain_).

**Prompt**: http:/teenwolfkink(dot)livejournal(dot)com/3353(dot)html?thread=2510617#t2510617

**Pairing**: Derek/Stiles

**Warnings**: sensitive themes such as rape and murder (both non-graphic though). Angst. Violence. Language. Gay bashing. Slash. _(Yes, that story is dark. And awful. And I cried writing it.)_

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but the story. Characters are from MTV's show Teen Wolf. Title from the song "People Help the People" by Cherry Ghost.

**Author note**: English's not my first language. Un-betaed oneshot.

_Thanks to the OP of the prompt I used; your idea was great. Hope it's vaguely what you were expecting. It turned out a lot darker and more angst-ridden than what I intended to write, not sure it's what you had in mind. I ended up focusing a lot on Stiles' feelings too, not only on Derek's and the Sheriff's (even if they are both very present in this)._

**DSDSDSDSDS**

**God Knows What Is Hiding In Those Weak and Drunken Hearts**

_**Stiles**_

Stiles Stilinksi was in his kitchen. He was listening to the radio while preparing lunch for eight people because, like every Sunday, his boyfriend and their friends were coming to eat with the Sheriff and himself. It was a tradition that had been going on for almost a year now. It had started just after he had had a talk with his dad about freaking _werewolves_ and _hunters_ and worse, him _dating_ Derek Hale. Derek, who was six years older than him, dark and mysterious, who lived in the burnt shell of a house where almost all his family had died, who always dressed in black and had a thing for leather, who always drove his Camaro a bit too fast, and last but not least, who then had been suspected of murder.

It hadn't been an easy talk to have but Stiles was awesome at talking so it had worked out. Of course, he had had to explain a lot of things that day, starting with how Derek was a werewolf – because, oh yeah, werewolves were _real_ by the way – who hadn't killed anybody – at least, Stiles didn't think he had – and who was Scott, Jackson, Lydia and Danny's Alpha – because they were werewolves too now – but also Stiles and Allison's - Allison who came from a family of hunters (when Stiles had told him that bit, he had realized that it was like suddenly everybody in town was either a werewolf or a hunter but he had wanted to tell his dad the truth so) – because they were the two humans of the pack. He also had had to show some proofs because his dad was like him and Saint Thomas; he only believed in what he could see.

All in all, Stiles thought his dad had reacted pretty well to the news: he had frozen in shock for a good half an hour, then had shouted at Stiles, then had asked for time to process things before storming out. When he had come back, he had been calmer and he had wanted to talk to Derek, which he had done before finding Stiles and telling him that he would always be there for him, that he _demanded_ a weekly meeting with the entire pack – hence the Sunday lunches – and that he agreed to Stiles being courted by Derek as long as sex wasn't happening until he was eighteen at least. That last part had been awfully awkward for both of them, even more for Stiles who had had to fight not to blush and blurt out that sex had already been happening – and quite often with that (turned out werewolves were horny bastards and that teenage boys were not better).

But things had been good after that. He was closer to his dad than ever, had a good relationship with his boyfriend – even if it was still strange as hell to think of Derek freaking Hale as his _boyfriend_ – and was a friend to every other member of the pack – yes, even Jackson Whittemore who was previously the ban of his existence was now really nice to him, which was a bit weird but Stiles wasn't complaining – and they were all preparing for college where they would all go and live together.

A couple of weeks ago, Stiles had even decided to come out and be open about his relationship. He hadn't shouted out to everybody that he was gay and happily engaged to an older man, hadn't suddenly started wearing pink and air kissing his friends nor had he started representing every gay stereotypes but he just thought that being open about who he really was before leaving town was the best thing to do. It was also a way to prepare himself mentally to be openly gay once in college. The pack and his dad had supported him, Derek had been awesome and totally okay with Stiles forcing him out of the closet too, and Scott and Jackson had even tried to follow him in the hallways for a time "_to make sure everybody was cool about it_" but Stiles had quickly stopped that, replying that Danny never had any trouble with coming out in Beacon Hills.

Stiles was slicing tomatoes when he heard his dad and Derek talking animatedly in the other room.

"I don't think so, Derek. My team is gonna beat the hell out of yours. I'm pretty sure a couple of grannies would beat the hell out of yours, just saying."

"No way, John. My team's gonna win and all you'll have will be your eyes to cry."

"Fancy a bet then, Derek?"

"Why not?"

And that? Was the strangest thing of all. Since the Sheriff had accepted his relationship with Derek and since the pack had been coming to their house every Sunday, it was like his dad and his boyfriend were best pals. _It was all very bizarre_, Stiles thought, but he would take that over death threats and war between the two any day.

They watched baseball games together, often went patrolling together, shared jokes and stories (most revolving around _Stiles_, which could really be embarrassing for him), they even went grocery shopping together sometimes. Stiles often joked that they were an old married couple but the men didn't even _mind_. They were really happy about getting along and just like that, it was like they formed a very exclusive club together. They took turn being with Stiles in the evening so he was never alone – and since he _hated_ being alone, it was all very nice – and during the weekends, when Stiles was with the pack, sometimes when he wasn't working his dad just "_happened to be in the area_" and joined them for a Lacrosse game or for a walk in the woods. Stiles thought at first it had the potential to be embarrassing but it turned out to be all he had ever wanted. He enjoyed having his dad more relaxed, knowing he was safe with his pack, and he enjoyed sharing activities with all the people he loved without having to split his time between his best friend, his boyfriend, his pack mates and his dad.

His dad seemed to think Derek was the best thing that ever happened to Stiles; he was everything the teen was not, calm, down to earth, mature, and also more than capable to defend himself and protect Stiles in case of danger. The fact that Derek was very protective of him was a very good point in his dad's book. Besides, Stiles was very good for Derek too; he was carefree, always ready to laugh and crack a joke, and able to distract him when he was struggling with dark thoughts and haunting memories.

"I swear if you're betting money again, I will strangle the two of you, okay?" Stiles shouted, not really believing that his threat was going to discourage them but trying anyway.

"Okay, son!"

"No problem, Stiles!"

Yeah, _right_.

**DSDSDSDSDS**

Stiles was finishing up in the lab. There was a science fair taking place in their high school the following Saturday and Stiles was teaming with Lydia on a secret project and they were going to blow the judges' minds away, he just knew it. Lydia had had to leave an hour before because she was expected to take part in a special training session with the rest of the furry members of the pack. Stiles couldn't go but he was happy to stay in the lab and complete the experience before cleaning up, because he understood that sometimes the wolves had to train without any distraction.

It was later than he had expected when he was done and the night had fallen on the high school's parking lot when he went to carry the box containing their project to his jeep. He was approaching his car when he heard a noise. He stopped and turned to look around but he saw nothing. Shrugging, he started to walk again when he heard the noise again.

Three guys kind of surged in front of him. They were tall and burly and Stiles couldn't see their faces.

"Err… Hi? Can I help you?" The teen asked them, voice unsure.

"How could a guy like you Stilinski help us?" The one in the middle said. He spit his name like it was the name of a disease. Also, they apparently knew who he was. Stiles was not reassured by that realization.

"Are you… Hum, are you lost?"

Stiles didn't think the guys were from his high school; he still couldn't see their faces but they seemed older somehow, they also sounded older.

One of them closed in on him until he was pressed against his jeep.

"No, we are not lost. We think you're the one lost here, _fairy_." The guy answered, his voice mean and a bit slurred.

When he talked, his breath hit Stiles' face and the teen could smell alcohol on it. '_They're trashed. Oh My God, they're trashed and we are all alone in the middle of a parking lot and it is dark and my cell doesn't have any battery left. I'm screwed. Oh God, please let them only want to insult me._'

"Listen guys, I have nothing on me but ten bucks so you see, it's not interesting for you, right. I can give them to you and then I'll just go and I wish you a nice evening and please let's not keep in touch."

"You think you're funny, don't you? Fucking fag. You think it's gonna be that easy? We don't want you and your people in our town, okay?" The tallest of the three said.

Now would probably be the right moment to run away from there. Or, at least, shut the hell up, because those guys didn't seem to be joking. But Stiles' biggest problem was always his brain-to-mouth filter, or rather his lack of any brain-to-mouth filter.

"In _your_ town? Seriously? Who are you, John Wayne? Listen cowboys, my dad's the sheriff and…"

"And what? He's gonna arrive in a second and kick our asses? I don't think so. See, there's been a big brawl in a bar in town and many cops were called in to help. I bet _Daddy_ is over there right now." Tall Guy mocked him.

"Yeah, so it's just you and us, fairy. All alone." The one who was still all up in his space added, whispering, his breath getting shorter.

That's when Stiles really got scared. Something felt really off. At first, he thought they came to make fun of him a bit but it didn't seem to be what they had in mind.

"Think we haven't been watching you? Parading in town with your creepy boyfriend? You are both so disgusting, want to barf every time I see you two. Walking hand in hand, like it's _normal_, like it's not unnatural and gross, you fucking queers. You're not standing so tall without him now, are you sweetheart? I bet you're the girl in your relationship, that you like to take it up the ass, uh? Bet you need him to protect you, don't you?"

Stiles felt the need to explain that there's no 'girl' in a gay relationship, that it's just a stupid cliché since the point in being gay is that there is no need for girls to be involved whatsoever, but for once, he kept his mouth shut. He also didn't say that it was very unlikely that they'd seen Derek and him walking hand in hand, because even in love, the guy was still a sour wolf and wasn't really a big fan of PDA. And by 'really', Stiles meant 'not at all'.

The guy was still talking in the background but Stiles just tuned him out, trying to come up with an escape plan. That was probably why he didn't see the first blow come. Creepy whispering Guy had hit him in the stomach. His breath cut, Stiles had to let the box he was still carrying fall to the ground.

"And my little brother told me you were still allowed to take part in Lacrosse practice… What the fuck are they thinking in this shitty high school? Letting freaks like you watch all the guys in the locker room and in the showers. Bet you're loving it. Bet you love practicing with them too, you fag."

The other two joined Creepy Guy and started showering him with hits too. Stiles tried to defend himself, he kicked them, he bit, he tried to run, but nothing worked. They were taller, they were stronger, they were _insane_. And they were three against one. Stiles didn't want to lose hope but he didn't really see how he could get away.

After that, everything was a blur of kicks, scratches and insults. Stiles was trying not to pay attention, was trying to escape in his own mind and just… Wait it out. Wait for them to decide they had enough. Wait for the nightmare to end.

But it would have been too nice. Too easy. At one point, one of them said "We know what fairies like you want, what you _need_, we're gonna give it to you, you'll thank us, you'll see."

And then, the _real_ nightmare began.

**DSDSDSDSDS**

_**The Sheriff**_

John Stilinski was not a man who worried easily over little things; it was not his style to fret. He was the Sheriff, he had to keep a cold head and quickly make the right decisions even during tough times, even when lives were at stake. But when his son was concerned, he could rapidly lose his calm. He was not proud of it, but Stiles was all he had left in the world. No matter his age, no matter his relationship status, Stiles was still his baby, he was still that little boy whose first word was 'Daddy'.

So when he came home after a long day of work, expecting to see Stiles cooking – it was a father-son evening, no pack and no Derek involved this day – and he couldn't find him in the house, he immediately started to worry a bit. When he tried to call him on his cell phone and couldn't reach him, fear slowly uncoiled in his guts. Knowing that werewolves existed hadn't made easier for him to be calm when Stiles was out at night, all the contrary. He really liked Derek and his pack, and he appreciated the guy being all protective of his boy, but he was never really serene when he didn't know where Stiles was exactly. And it was especially true when he knew for sure Derek was not with him, which was the case that day since he was having a special training session with the four other werewolves of his pack.

He tried to call Derek and Scott anyway just to see if they would pick up; then he even tried Jackson, Lydia and Danny, but none of them answered, which wasn't surprising if they were training in wolf form. He called Allison who answered her phone but hadn't heard from Stiles since she had seen him during classes. She made him promise to call her as soon as he found him. He tried Stiles' phone again but still nothing.

He decided to drive around town and see if he could spot him. He started by stopping at all his favorite dinners and restaurants, and then checked the gas station. Not seeing him anywhere, he really started to worry. Besides, something was off, he could tell. His instinct rarely betrayed him. He went then to check the road between their house and Beacon Hills' high school.

Spotting Stiles' jeep in the parking lot, he parked beside it and rushed out of his police car.

"Stiles? Son, where are you?" He started to shout, panicking. He was bypassing the jeep to head towards the school when he heard somebody whimpering. His heart hammering, he went in the direction of the voice.

That was when he saw a form lying on the ground.

"Oh my God, Stiles!" He ran towards his son, panting. Approaching him, he started to smell blood. '_Oh no, not that. Not Stiles. It's not possible. Not him, not my boy, no_.'

He crouched beside him. "Stiles, you hear me? Where are you hurt?"

"Dad? Dad. I… I…" His son's voice, broken, whispered. He then started to sob, his breathing erratic.

"Stiles, talk to me son, talk to me."

"Hurts. Hurts… So much, Dad, please… Make it stop."

Choking up, his heart slowing breaking, the Sheriff said to his only son "Stiles, I'm going to call an ambulance okay, don't try to move. Stay still."

"Dad, no, don't… Let me alone. Hurts. I'm scared." Stiles' voice was so weak, so soft, barely audible, so… _Unlike Stiles_.

"I know buddy, I know. I'm coming back right away. I just need to go to my car, it's really close, then I call an ambulance, grab my flashlight and I'll be back real quick. Don't move Stiles please."

"'Kay. Be quick dad."

He could still hear his son softly sobbing when he went to his car and it was the worst sound in the whole word. With each sob, his heart broke a bit more.

His son was hurt. Somebody hurt his son. He was going to hurt that person. As soon as he made sure Stiles was safe and on his way to recovery, he'd make sure that son of a bitch was going to hurt twice as much as his boy was hurting. He swore it on his beloved wife's grave.

He made the call, took his flashlight, and then ran back to where Stiles was.

He turned the light on and what he saw made him want to throw up. Stiles' face was covered in cuts, blood and bruises were already forming. His lips were split, his eyes swollen shut. His t-shirt was torn open, and his chest was in the same state as his face. His breathing was also so labored that he thought some ribs might be broken. But when his eyes went lower, when he saw that Stiles was naked from the waist down, his heart skipped a beat and he could feel bile in his mouth. He immediately understood what had happened and he made him see red. He would _kill_ him. Forget about his job as a sheriff, forget about his principles. Whoever had done this was _dead_.

"Dad, don't… Don't look. Please. Don't want you to." He stopped to cough and it brought more tears to his eyes. "Don't want you… To see… Me. Like that."

He wanted to break things. He wanted to cry. He wanted to shout. He needed to throw up. He needed a drink, fuck he needed it so much. He needed to see some blood that wasn't Stiles'. But what he _had_ to do was to be here for his son. For his boy.

"Shh, Stiles, it's okay. I'm not looking, okay? I'm just going to take my jacket and put it on your legs, yeah? Just so you're a bit warmer, okay? It's gonna be alright, Stiles. Dad's here now." He took off his jacket and put on his son's waist and legs. God.

"Dad?"

"Yes son?"

"Dad, what… What am I going to tell Derek? Oh god… He'll kill me, he'll… He's gonna be furious… And so disgusted. Oh God, please let me die…"

Oh God, Derek. He had to call Derek and he had to do it soon, as soon as Stiles was in the hospital. The man would go _insane_ if he wasn't told. He would be mad anyway, he would want to… Kill that bastard. And that was not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. John would not prevent him from doing so, au contraire. He would have his back, prevent his guys from looking too much into things afterwards, he would protect him. He would probably do a better job as making them suffer, had having them terrified. The guy was especially good at that.

"Stiles, he will not be mad. At you. He will not be mad at you, son."

"You… You don't know him… Dad. He's so… So possessive and jealous. He will… Hate me… for letting other guys touch me."

"You didn't let… Wait. Guys, Stiles? As in more than one?"

"Oh Dad, I'm so sorry… They were three… I couldn't… Just couldn't…"

He was furious, he wanted to call Derek right now and tell him to find them all and kill them all and bring back their fucking _hearts_ to him. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on his son.

"Stiles, shush, okay? It's going to be alright, _you_'re going to be alright. I'll make sure of it. Derek will make sure of it; I just know it, okay? I'm starting to know him too, and I'll know he will not be mad at you, I swear. You hear me?"

"Yeah, yes. Okay."

Then they heard the ambulance arriving and everything went fast after that. It was all a whirlwind of bright lights, of people dressed in light blue and white, of needles, of too much white and even more red.

He couldn't hear anything over the noise of his heart pounding and breaking, and his too deep breaths. Over his thoughts, so loud. So violent. He felt so bad for his son, for himself, for Derek. He kept thinking '_What would Sarah say? She would die of sorrow. Her baby. She would hate me for not protecting him. Oh god I let him down, I failed him_.' He felt so guilty. It was so unfair. When you have a boy, you have talks about safe sex, and not getting girls pregnant, and not doing drugs, and building a future. You don't have talk about the bad guys out there who can rape your baby boy. You're never prepared to that possibility. You don't think of it; you fear fights, you might fear bullying, you fear sport injuries, you don't fear fucking _rape_. But he was the Sheriff; he should have feared that, he should have been prepared, should have warned his son. He knew this happened sometimes, not in Beacon Hills but still.

He called Derek. He had too. He couldn't reach him. He felt like a coward when he felt some relief at that. He left a short message: "_Derek. It's Stiles… Something happened tonight. Something bad. Real bad. Call me. Or come to the hospital directly. I'll be waiting for you_."

**DSDSDSDSDS**

_**Derek**_

He was back at his house after the training session when he saw he had a message on his phone. He listened to it and went into panic. His wolf was whimpering and shouting at him to find its mate and find him _quick_. The others heard his heartbeat, smelled the acrid scent of fear, saw the panic in their Alpha's eyes. They instantly knew it was about Stiles. They went to their cars and followed him without a noise. Scott in particular was a mess but they were all shaking, all worried.

At first, he thought Stiles had an accident; he was always telling him that his jeep was a fucking piece of crap. He should have stolen it and driven it off a cliff when he had the occasion. God, he hoped it was okay, he had to be okay.

Then, arriving at the hospital, he saw John's face, smelt the nauseating odor of pain and shame and guilt all rolled into one. He saw the blood on his hands. Felt the change starting on his body, saw everything through a red hue as his eyes flashed that Alpha red.

John pulled him into the bathrooms. Started to explain about three men attacking Stiles, beating him up. It made no sense. Okay, Stiles could be annoying sometimes but everybody knew he was a nice kid, the Sheriff's kid for fuck's sake. He was listening and shaking his head, not believing a word. But John's heart told him the man wasn't lying, he was telling the absolute truth, even if he was omitting something.

"What else?" He growled. And wasn't it messed up that he had to ask that? That there _was_ something _else_? That Stiles being beaten up and left lying bloody on the ground was not _enough_?

"Derek, he was… Stiles was raped."

_Find. Kill. Destroy. Annihilate. _

"Who?" His voice was not his voice anymore. It was the wolf talking. He knew John realized that because he never heard _that_ voice coming from Derek before.

"We don't know yet, Stiles didn't recognize them. But they knew him apparently. He said something in the ambulance about a brother in high school."

"I'll kill them. One after the other. They will suffer. They can't escape."

"I know."

"You gonna be in my way?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'll help you Derek, God help me but I'll help you. I'll protect you too. He's my son. My only son. He's all I have. And he's what matters to you most, I know, I can see it. So I'll help you. But not now."

Derek growled and showed his teeth but the Sheriff didn't look impressed.

"Stop that. Not with me. I'll help you, I swear, but Derek, Stiles is the priority. He's in bad shape right now. God, Derek, he's… He's fucking broken. He needs us right now, both of us. He won't be left alone, we'll be here for him. You will do whatever you want to those guys but not before Stiles is better, not before we succeed in fixing him up a bit, you hear me? That's what's important right now, what matters. Family."

_Mate hurt, fix it, make it better._

"Yeah, you're right, okay. Where is he now? Can I see him?"

"In a second. Just Derek, I asked to keep his clothes. They think it's because I want to open an investigation but I want you to have them first. I want you to smell them and memorize the scents of those bastards. Want you to be able to recognize them anywhere, to be able to find them when the moment comes."

"Yes, their scents, yes. I will probably smell them on him anyway, but it's a good idea."

He tried to have his eyes get back to normal. His claws too. Then they went to see Stiles.

**DSDSDSDSDS**

_**Stiles**_

He had stayed in the hospital two weeks; they had made sure no internal damage had been done and they had stitched him up. Then he had had to stay at home for a while, to not make his injuries worse. His left arm had been in a cast for a month and a half, his ribs had had to be covered in thick fabric to help them mend and his neck had been in a neck brace for a couple of weeks. He went home with pills to help him fight the pain, to help him keep calm, to help him sleep, to help him stay awake and not go into shock during the day. He now lived in a world where there were pills for everything.

He was seeing a therapist, to whom he didn't talk but he had to keep going. He was never left alone, he was always surrounded by the pack; sometimes it helped, sometimes it just suffocated him. He needed Derek all the time, wanted to know he still loved him, wasn't about to abandon him (_like his mom did, just like his mom_) but when he was with him, he was always too close, too in his space, too _right there_. He wanted his dad around all the time too, because his dad meant _safety_, meant _home_, meant _family_, but when his dad was with him, all he could think about was _he saw me then, when I was at my worst, he must be so ashamed, god, why doesn't he just leave?_

He wanted out of the house, wanted to start living again, but he was also terrified to go back to his high school. He would have to park in _the_ parking lot. He would have to go back to the lab. He would probably walk pass _their_ brothers in the hallways. And what if the other students knew what happened to him? What would they think? Would they pity him? Be grossed out by him? Would they laugh? Would they think, deep down, that he had had just what he deserved, that he was a freak like _they_ said? And what about the teachers?

And god, what if it happened again? What about those guys? Where were they? Would they want to do it again? Would they _kill_ him next time, finish the job?

He felt so dirty. It was like no matter how many showers a day he had, he couldn't feel clean. He felt their hands on him every second. He felt their breaths on his neck, the weight of their stares on him. He could still hear the insults, the _noises_. No matter what he ate, he still had the tastes in his mouth. _Tears, spit, come, dirt, alcohol, bile_. His skin was too tight, too loose, too itchy, it was not _his_ anymore.

He didn't want to talk anymore because if he opened his mouth, he was afraid to shout and never stop. He was afraid of everything: shadows, bright lights, noises, silence, people in the streets, people around him, loud voices, whispering voices (_whispering in his ear, whispering insults and threats, whispering filth_), voices in his own head.

They had broken him. He was broken, he was damaged, he was shattered inside. He didn't think he could heal. Some days he felt nothing, he felt as if he was a doll, he'd let people move him where they want and he'd smile and say '_I'm fine, thank you'_. Some days he felt too many things at once: fear, despair, anxiety, panic, anger, shame, guilt.

**DSDSDSDSDS**

Like everything in life, it passed. Slowly. One thing at a time. It was not an easy process. He fought every step of the way. Fought his dad, fought Derek, fought his friends, his pack. Fought himself too. Fought the part of him that wanted to cling to the sadness and the shame and the anger because at least it was real and pure, and he was not blind anymore, he knew what life was about, that a person could go through hell and back.

But it passed. He learnt to be in the same room as his dad and be okay, not perfect, never perfect, but okay. Most of the time. He learnt to let Derek close again, because he was there, all the time, with him, and he _loved_ him, and needed him just as much as Stiles needed him. He learnt to talk to Scott again, because he was his best friend and because the guy was lost without him. He learnt to look Lydia and Allison in the eyes without feeling awful for thinking they were lucky, they didn't know what_ it_ was like. He learnt not to hate Danny anymore because he was the first guy to have come out in Beacon Hills but nobody had felt the need to attack _him_. He learnt to be around Jackson again without remembering that once, he had been bullying him too, shoving him around, insulting him, picking on him. He learnt to make peace with himself, to not hate himself, to stop thinking or at least to start thinking less that he was weak and disgusting and that he didn't deserve all the people in his life.

He went back to his high school. It was not easy, he had panic attacks, he had to take pills to control his anxiety, and he had to learn breathing exercises. But the pack was there for him, always. Jackson was a prime bodyguard, he asked to be in all his classes, and went everywhere with him; at first, it was helpful, then it was really annoying, then maddening, then it was part of his life. Lydia was often around too and she sent death glares to anybody staring at Stiles; that helped a lot. Allison was always smiling, no matter how dark Stiles' mood was; she was exactly the same as she always had been. It helped. Scott was Scott, telling bad jokes, asking for his help in class, looking at Allison with adoration, complaining about Lacrosse practice and werewolf training, and being his best friend. Danny tutored him so he could catch up with everything he had missed, lent him his notes, was being helpful too.

Overall, he was healing. He felt better. He was not the same guy anymore, but he was becoming someone else, not someone worse, just someone different.

And one night, when he couldn't sleep and was considering getting warm milk and cookies instead of his usual sleeping pills, he heard Derek's phone vibrate on his nightstand. He looked at his boyfriend, but he was still deeply sleeping. Not able to resist his curiosity, which he was getting back, he picked up the iPhone and read the text. It was from his dad.

_(John S.) They closed the investigation, son. It's done. Nothing to worry about now._

Frowning, he scrolled up to read the previous texts exchanged.

_(Derek) I think it's time. Stiles is getting better each day. I need to do it soon, my w. is getting really hard to control._

_(John S.) It's fine, do it whenever._

_(Derek) Sure?_

_(John S.) Sure. I need you to do it too. He's my son. I want them dealt with._

_(Derek) Okay, I'll start looking tonight._

_(John S.) Good. Call me if you need help with… Them. When it's done._

_(Derek) Okay._

_- Later that same day -_

_(Derek) Done. It's done._

_(John S.) All of them?_

_(Derek) All of them. It's over._

_(John S.) Alright. I'll talk to you in the morning._

_(Derek) K. See you._

_- Four days later -_

_(John S.) They're starting to look into things. Low profile for a bit._

_(Derek) Okay._

_- Two days later –_

_(John S.) They have nothing. You did well. I'll keep confusing them just in case._

_(Derek) Great. Thanks, John._

_- Present day -_

_(John S.) They closed the investigation, son. It's done. Nothing to worry about now._

And Stiles got it. What they had done. He should have been angry. Should have at least been upset. Should have asked for an explanation, told them he was not a kid, that they didn't have to do that for him, endanger themselves, and risk imprisonment. He should have been upset. He hadn't been. He still wasn't.

**DSDSDSDSDS**

So… Sad QuirkyChick is sad. Writing this totally destroyed me. I thought it would be like writing _Empire_ but not at all. Also, I'm not really happy with the end result.

I wasn't supposed to write new fills for the meme so soon because I know I have the fourth chapter of _Shut Up_ (and it's coming, promise!) and the second chapter of _Empire_ to finish and post and a freaking other prompt to fill but that prompt just called to me. And yes, it is slightly worrying that my brain seems focused on stories about maiming and murdering lately but I promise I am not becoming insane (or not much more than I already am anyway).

Anyhow, hope you liked it guys. Reviews would make me less sad**.**

_**QuirkyChick**_


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